Honorable Intentions
by Dukes126plus
Summary: Problem is, he’s not a schemer and knowing what he wants isn’t enough. He needs a plan, and he doesn’t have one. From The Boar's Nest Bears.


The _Boar's Nest Bears_ was tricky, what with a basketball team's worth of little boys running loose on the farm. Odd how they left them all to sleep in the barn without any supervision, especially when they knew that neighboring County Commissioner was after their star player. Anyway, this takes place before any of that, so we'll ignore any holes in the Duke-logic.

* * *

"I haven't lost much off my jump shot. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Probably not. Luke's fully focused on the peewee basketball team and honorable intentions like helping kids (with the only slightly less honorable expectation of saving their own necks) overcome the adversity of being coached by Rosco Coltrane. Bo's trying to think those same thoughts, but his mind's been drifting its own way all day. Getting trapped by a swollen Hatchapee River this morning made him consider what would happen if the two if them just drifted downstream on a raft, away from Hazzard and probation and everything that feels like restriction. The thought of losing their licenses and the General this afternoon made him wonder what else they really had to lose. Luke talking about jump shots just keeps on leading him down that same dangerous path. Which doesn't keep him from slinging a tight arm around those hard shoulders his cousin's got that are already close enough to be his own.

Everything could change tomorrow, and not in a good way. Bo reckons they'd better make the best of the night in front of them.

"Uncle Jesse, would you mind if me and Luke took the General out for a spin?" Luke's staring hard at him, wondering why he hasn't been consulted over this desire to go for a ride. "Since we could lose him tomorrow?"

Jesse's got a soft spot for that car, enough of one that it sometimes seems like the old man's favorite adopted child.

"I reckon it's all right if'n you make sure to stay away from the speed traps and get back in at a reasonable hour." Downright indulgent of the guy, and even sourpuss's tight shoulders relax at the idea of some night driving.

So they're off, and despite Luke's relatively favorable feelings towards this plan, he won't let Bo do any night jumping.

"You're out of practice," is his excuse. "And on the off-chance that we've still got the General tomorrow, I want him in one piece. Not to mention us." Because it's vital that the boys show up for court all stout and healthy so that they can be torn apart by Boss Hogg and Judge Druten.

But it's fine really. Quality time with the car (or even jumping it) is not the full intent of this trip anyway, at least as far as Bo is concerned. He's clearly spent too much of his life next to Luke (for more reasons than one), because he has ulterior motives. Problem is, he's not a schemer and knowing what he wants isn't enough. He needs a plan, and he doesn't have one.

Making it up as he goes, Bo pulls off the excuse for a road and into a narrow gap between shrubs onto one of the family's old shine running trails. He turns his head long enough to catch Luke watching him drive; that there is a man who will never admit to wondering what Bo is up to. That might just be the only reason Bo's glad for his cousin's mule-like qualities.

When he's driven far enough up alongside that old spring branch that he figures even a raccoon wouldn't bother to squander an evening here, he stops the car. Luke's right there, a secretly curious captive audience, but the nylon seat under Bo's jeans is suddenly too well broken in for his tastes. His very comfort sitting in the grooves he's worn into this car weighs against him, so he slides out his window. No witnesses, especially not Jesse's favorite child.

"Bo." For all that Luke's not one to admit to curiosity, he can hardly pass up the opportunity to remind Bo that he's a fool. "What the heck are you doing?"

There's a crunch behind him, Luke's out of the car and following him over these leftover leaves from last fall. There's not a lot of light here, just a quarter moon or so, which keeps Bo within a small radius. Too many small and scratchy branches out here, not to mention how it's poison ivy season. Maybe twenty steps away from the tick of the General's cooling engine, Bo stops and turns.

A less attuned man would likely stumble into Bo, what with the abrupt way he's stopped moving. Luke's got hunting skills of a whole different kind than most anyone Bo has ever known; staying alive in a hostile country has given him that. Hasn't made him an altogether patient man, though.

"What's wrong with you?"

Good question. He's got an answer, Bo does. He's just not sure he wants to share.

"Remember that night we got caught?" Stupid question, how could either of them forget that crazy run from the revenuer and the local law, and the accident that ended a Duke family tradition that that was older than the good old US of A.

Luke nods, or at least that's what Bo figures he's doing, too far away from him in the dark. Doesn't say anything helpful, either, just keeps himself more than arm's length away. This has never been a problem for Bo before; if there's distance, he just closes it. Tonight he's halfway afraid to.

"Remember," and Bo's wishing that mind-reading thing Luke sometimes does would kick in right about now. "How it felt, knowing that our lives were about to change?"

Should have known better than to say those words. "I was more thinking about how you was hurt." Because Luke doesn't admit to feeling things; he thinks them.

"I wasn't hurt bad," Bo reminds him, just in case he has intentions of taking this train off its tracks. "I was talking about not knowing what would happen. Kind of like tomorrow," he rushes to add, before Luke can jump in with whatever kind of denial of feeling fear that he can come up with on such short notice.

"Bo," Luke's got that caught-between-exasperation-and-patience tone in his voice. Bo's as fond of that sound as he is the growl of the General the first time he gets started each day. Even better, Luke's coming closer, his warm hands resting on Bo's shoulders. "It'll be fine."

Fine, maybe not. Good for a few seconds, yeah, but after that will come the shock and maybe even anger. Still those few seconds have got to be worth it. Bo leans forward into the rigid body in front of him, holding still in expectation of his approach. His arms slip around Luke's waist in a familiar way, but instead of tilting his head down into Luke's shoulder, he turns it to the side, catching his cousin's soft lower lip between his own. Yeah, those few seconds are perfect. Tomorrow can wait.


End file.
